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Continuing my quest to set foot in every nation on Earth, I turned my sights toward Palau. Perched on the western fringe of Micronesia, roughly 850 kilometers east of the Philippines, this remote archipelago spans just 459 square kilometers (180 sq miles) across hundreds of emerald coral and volcanic islands, home to a modest population of around 20,000 population. While tens of thousands of visitors journey here each year to dive its legendary reefs, the engine keeping the i

Some people use wallets. I, however, prefer the high-stakes thrill of using my front-right jeans pocket as a chaotic, unorganized filing cabinet. This is the story of how that filing cabinet repeatedly fired its most important employees. Act I: The Cancun Cash-and-Dash I was sprinting through the Cancun airport ecosystem, running on pure adrenaline and the impending doom of missing my flight to Ireland. I had one final boss to defeat: the rental car return agent. Now, I didn'

The air inside the subterranean tunnels of Caves St. Martin clings to you with a damp, ancient chill, smelling faintly of limestone and sleeping wine. Deep within the picturesque town of Remich, Luxembourg, this labyrinth has guarded a secret since 1919: the art of Crémant de Luxembourg. It is a sparkling wine crafted with the exact same traditional obsession as French Champagne, born in a spectacular, one-kilometer-long cave carved directly into the rock. Running a hand alon

In 2001, I flew into Cairns, Australia, drawn by the pull of the Great Barrier Reef. Boarding a high-speed catamaran, I made my way to the dive site. Despite my candid admission to the divemaster that I couldn't swim, he gave me the green light. We geared up—wetsuit, tank, regulator—and down I went. We descended into the blue, settling at seventy feet. The marine life was astonishing, and I marveled at the surreal sensation of breathing underwater. Then, an intrusive thought

I had just completed a flawless day of sightseeing, capped off with a fantastic dinner at the SixSeven rooftop restaurant. The food was excellent, the ambiance was perfect, and they were even screening Pretty Woman on a giant outdoor screen. Feeling disciplined and satisfied, I decided to skip dessert. This turned out to be my tactical error. As we walked back to the hotel, my friend handed me a chocolate candy to compensate for my missing dessert. It was nice, rich, and cata

There I was, driving the 120km stretch from Cancun to Tulum, aggressively flirting with an empty fuel gauge. Seeing an Oxxo, I pulled over for water and thanked the road-trip gods for the gas station next door. I filled up: 985 pesos. With the confidence of a modern traveler, I whipped out my iPhone to tap-to-pay. Beep. Declined. As it turns out, their terminal hated digital international cards. No physical plastic? No gas. Suddenly, I went from valued customer to prime suspe

My friend and I met up in Cancun for a beach getaway, and during the trip, he was on a mission to find a gift. He had a close friend back in the US who was a true cigar aficionado. While exploring the vibrant stalls of Mercado 28, we stumbled upon a shop that immediately caught our attention. It boasted a massive, glowing wall of premium tequila bottles and an incredibly inviting lounge area furnished with deep leather sofas. We wandered in and were instantly befriended by a

As an avid global traveler, I pass through Indian airports routinely, but my transit through Delhi in May 2026 was part of an especially grueling journey. I was flying from Uzbekistan all the way to Mexico. It was a massive, multi-city voyage split across two separate itineraries. The first leg brought me from Tashkent to Delhi. After a brief two-hour layover, my second itinerary began: an Etihad Airways routing that would take me from Delhi to Abu Dhabi, Abu Dhabi to Charlot

I had the yellow fever vaccine certificate from US 15 years ago and somehow lost it. I had to travel to Uganda to see the Gorillas and an entry condition was having this certificate. The morning before the flight, I tried to figure out if I could get it in Pune, India, from where I was connecting to the travel to Uganda. I read the local hospital has vaccines available Monday, Wednesday and Friday but no appointments were available. I went to the well known Sasoon Hospital an

Before setting out on Tasmania's notoriously rugged Overland Track, a wave of gear anxiety hit me. Worried that my trusty, Camino-worn trail shoes wouldn't survive the terrain, I stepped into a Melbourne sports shop for a second opinion. The staff smoothly convinced me to upgrade to a pricey pair of waterproof La Sportivas, even generously offering to take my old ones off my hands for donation. It was a classic mistake. At the very first encounter with Tasmanian water, the "w

I was in Bangkok in 2025, walking around on Sukhumvit Road and enjoying the hustle and bustle of the large city. It was very crowded as I walked, and people were passing me all the time. One person who looked like he could be Indian or East Asian passed and nodded at me. A few steps later, another person of similar background passed and pointed to my hat. The first person returned and said that he could help me. Not knowing that I needed any help, I was curious. He brought ou

I was on a two-stop journey across Southeast and South Asia: Indonesia to Vietnam, then onward to Ahmedabad, and finally to Mumbai. After landing in Saigon, I settled into a seat near my gate for the flight to Ahmedabad, keeping a casual eye on the departure screen. Every few minutes I checked the boarding status, but nothing changed. After a long stretch of silence, I finally walked up to the counter to ask about the delay. "Oh, you’re six minutes late," the agent said. "We

Years ago, I did the brutal Cactus to Clouds hike in Palm Springs, so when my friend VR and I were staying in town, we decided on a much more civil approach: take the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway up to 8,000 feet and hike the remaining distance to the 10,834-foot summit of Mt. San Jacinto. VR made it clear from the start that he’d go as far as felt comfortable and wouldn't be hung up on making the peak, which was fine by me. We drove to the gondola station in VR’s car, bought

In the late 1990s, I had a friend named Geoff who eventually moved away from the San Francisco Bay Area. We crossed paths briefly in the early 2010s, but life got in the way, and we lost touch once again. Years later, I found myself hiking through the dramatic landscapes of the Romanian Carpathian Mountains near Brașov. Walking through the wilderness, a sudden spark of word association brought Geoff to mind, his last name was Roman, and I was currently traversing Romania. On

I was sitting at an outdoor patio cafe in the heart of a Lisbon neighborhood, enjoying an espresso, when a voice broke the morning air. "Where are you from?" I looked up from my laptop. Sitting across from me was a man with a striking head of thick white hair and a matching white beard. After exchanging a few pleasantries, he opened up and began to share his life story. He was 92 years old, speaking fluent, effortless English. Had he not told me his age, I easily would have p

After years of moving in different directions, a close friend of thirty-five years and I reconnected. Eager to catch up properly, we planned an eight-mile hike along Skyline Boulevard, high up on Highway 35 in the San Francisco Bay Area. It’s a spectacular stretch of trail carved directly through giant redwoods, where the hills are steep, the dense forest is deeply meditative, and the canopy keeps everything cool and shadowed no matter how bright the sun is outside. On the mo

It was the year California finally broke its long drought with relentless winter rains. After days of heavy downpours, the sun finally broke through, washing the sky clear and drying out the pavement. It was a crisp Sunday in March. I hadn't been on a road bike in months, but the sudden taste of spring sparked an irresistible urge: I was going to ride up Old La Honda Road., I mounted my bike onto the rack behind my car, slipped on my cycling gloves—a strange thing to do while

In the early 1990s, my graduate school classmate Sandy and I navigated our university days together in Florida. After graduation, he relocated to San Francisco, and when I eventually moved to the Bay Area myself, we caught up and hung out off and on. Back then, Sandy was in his mid-thirties, happily single, and completely convinced he was a lifelong, confirmed bachelor with absolutely no intentions of ever getting married. As the years rolled on, we both got swallowed up by

Back in 2005, a coworker mentioned that a friend of hers could guide us up Mount Shasta, a towering stratovolcano visible more than 100 miles as we drive north. Shasta is as unforgiving as it is magnificent; step off the wrong ledge, and a simple miscalculation turns fatal. Vicky, Dave, Robert, the guide, and I packed into two cars and set off from the San Francisco Bay Area. Dave and I rode together, chatting casually about the weekend plan. The strategy was textbook: hike u

It was 2001, and I was working for a dot-com startup in Silicon Valley. Looking for a team-building activity, I asked my engineering team if anyone wanted to climb Mount Whitney. To my surprise, ten engineers—plus my boss—eagerly agreed. We drove to Lone Pine, and by around 10:00 AM, we were strapped into heavy packs loaded with tents, sleeping bags, stoves, and food. Trailheads behind us, we began the trek up toward our high camp at 12,000 feet. A couple of hours into the hi